Let Her Cry
by Chelsea Oz
Summary: A one shot for Miss Coinoperatedbecca! It's a little story about how Jack was there for Maudie when she became a wife and for when she became a widow.


There's nothing I find more detestable than an arranged marriage. We were put on this earth for the right of free will and arranged marriages go against all of that. My poor, sweet lady friend, Maudie Buford Atkinson, didn't deserve to be in one. Maudie was always my kind of girl: intelligent, playful, adventurous; a wild child. Dr and Mrs. Buford couldn't possibly think that a girl of her stature would ever find a man to be in a suitable marriage with so they found a husband for her. Of course she wasn't such a rebel that she would run away from her parents and their decision; she loved and respected her parents even when she knew they were wrong. Poor thing was scared to death and I will never forget the night before her wedding when she called me from the Landing all in a panic.

"I don't think I can do this, Jack," she said, gasping for air.

"Yes, you can," I said. "Take a deep breath. You're going to be all right, sweetheart."

"Please say something to make me feel better."

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know. Oh God, I'm so nervous!"

"You should be nervous..."

"I called you for help here!"

"Not for you, for me. I know I'm going to get so excited to see you in that dress of yours that I'm going to masturbate to your walk down the aisle."

"You are the biggest pervert I've ever met, you know that?"

She was laughing though. It was no secret that her and I had an attraction to each other for years and it was to a point where we couldn't help but laugh at it, either. My words really did help though because the next day, her wedding day, I made sure I sat in the front row so whenever she got nervous all she had to do was look over at me. Then of course she had to cover her face with her veil so people wouldn't notice her laughing. Good thing I've got a good pokerface because Lord knows if I lost it she would, too. When I went to go kiss her in the recieving line afterwards is when she finally did give herself permission to laugh.

"Go wash your hands, you filthy animal," she whispered in my ear before she pecked my lips. I hissed like a cat back at her and that made her roar again. Oh the glare I got from Mr. John Atkinson when it was my turn to shake his hand! Like I cared what he thought anyway...

About four years into the future, right around the time that my brother Atticus' wife Jean was due to give birth to their son, Mr. John Atkinson died in his sleep. The coroner determined that he had slept right through a stroke. I will never forget that heartbreaking phone call that I got in Tennessee that morning.

"Maudie, what's wrong, sweetheart? Are you pregnant?"

"You're such an asshole!"

"It's a joke, honey."

"I'm not laughing. I called to tell you that John is dead."

"What?"

"You heard me."

"Shit," I said as I ran my hand through my hair. "Honey, hold on, okay? I'm going to close up the office and I'm going to catch a train as soon as I can."

"Please hurry."

"I can only go as fast as the train, sweetheart."

"Well, tell the train to hurry."

"Yeah, okay."

Her words would haunt me all the way to Alabama: please hurry. The deaths of fathers and mothers were the only deaths I understood up until that point and I thought they had to be the painful ones, but I guess I was wrong. Maudie, the woman who didn't want her marriage, was in mourning over her husband anyway. I guess she did grow to love the man and I thought maybe that kind of loss was greater than a parents loss: not only do you expect your parents to go before you, but you also don't choose your parents; you can choose your lovers. That revelation lead me to another: Maudie chose to love her arranged husband. She made a conscious decision every morning to love the man who she didn't want and I thought that made her the bravest woman of all.

Atticus picked me up from the train station. We greeted each other with our usual brotherly kiss before we staked out for my brother's car. I asked about Jean and about how her pregnancy was coming along to keep my mind of Maudie. Atticus beamed all the while telling me about how wonderful this time in his life was and I felt wonderful for him; he was a great husband to her and I knew he would be a great father to his children, especially considering he helped raise me.

"How is she?" I finally asked as we pulled into town.

"Maudie?"

"Yeah."

"How do you think she is, Jack? She just lost her husband."

"That's what I'm afraid of."

"No need to be afraid," he said as he parked up alongside Maudie's house and patted my knee. "Go see her."

"Please don't come in with me," I said, I knew I was going to cry when I saw her and I didn't care for my brother to see me cry.

"All right, I won't. It's almost dinnertime anyway."

"I don't know how you can think of food right now."

"You're going to be all right, brother. Go see Miss Maudie."

I finally got out of the car and I didn't say another word to my brother. My brother understood; I didn't have to worry. I sprinted up the porch steps and realized that the door was open by a creak. I pushed the door opened and walked in and could have swore I heard silent sobs from in the house. I walked up the stairs and into the bedroom where I was shocked to find her wearing her wedding dress, sitting on the middle of her bedroom floor, sobbing openly as she looked up at me.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," I said, quietly. I couldn't move yet.

"You're not," she replied, wiping away her tears. "I have a question for you."

"Shoot."

"Was I enough?"

"What?"

"For him. Do you think I did all I could for him?"

"Honey, you know you did."

"I tried so hard, Jack," she said as her sobs began again. "I tried so hard."

"Well," I said as I walked over to her and crouched down to sit by her. My hands found their way to her face which I cradled. "You don't have to try so hard anymore."

Her sobs went from gentle to violent. I kissed her forehead with her face still in my hands. She crashed into me so hard that she knocked not only me but herself over. I wasn't hurt but I wasn't about to pick her or myself back up, either. I let her lay on my chest as I ran my hands through her unkempt hair. I let her cry; it was all I could do.


End file.
